Sacrificial Lamb
by xx-Twisted Fantasy-xx
Summary: Bonnie and Damon are one in the same, willing to sacrifice everything for Elena. But death is not to be taken lightly, and they will have to realize that Elena is not the only person they love. . . there are deep-rooted feelings they have yet to uncover.
1. The Devil Beside You

**Disclaimer: TVD is not mine, I don't own Damon or the copyright. The quote isn't mine either.**

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><p><em>This story is going to start off from The Last Dance, and gradually grow into a Bamon story. I wondered how their relationship would grow after that, and I doubt that the show will go into it before season 3.<em>

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><p><strong>~Chapter One~<strong>

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><p><em>Just by the look of it<br>As in the way you wrote me off  
>I'm not supposed to see<br>Your eyes tell lies you mouth can never spill_

_~The Devil Beside You, The Used~_

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><p>I can do this.<p>

I'm strong.

I'm a Bennett witch—and not just any Bennett witch, I'm Shelia's granddaughter.

But none of that really matters, I would have put myself in this position even if I knew I couldn't defeat Klaus. Elena is the only family I have left. My grandmother is dead, my father is distant, and I don't even know what happened to my mother; though I used to imagine that she got kidnapped by an evil prince and she would come back to me as soon as she escaped.

I think I stopped believing in her when I turned six.

So—for all intents and purposes—Elena is my sister. And all I have left. So I _can't_ let her die. If the death of a stranger torments me for days, I don't even want to consider what would happen if I lost Elena.

And to think, I'm actually trusting Damon with one of the most crucial steps in my plan.

His face swims into my mind as I picture him stalling Stefan and undressing Elena with his eyes. Typical Damon antics. Eventually, and without even realizing it, I think of how I put myself in this predicament in the first place. How I was cherishing every last second I had with Jeremy, how he walked up to me, ruined my dance, _smiled like the terrific bastard_ he was.

_Isn't there any way to increase your odds?_

I shake my head, the image of Damon dissolving in a matter of seconds.

I refuse to let him destroy my last few moments of peace I have left. He's done enough already, why let him take away that, too?

_Because he_ cares, a tiny voice in the back of my head says. _You know it. You_ saw_ it!_

I guess I did, but I might have been imagining things. I mean, do I really believe that Damon is capable of looking scared for anyone who name doesn't begin with an E and end with a chorus of chirping doves—somebody he _doesn't_ love?

Um, _hell no._

Damon Salvatore is a lot of things—mostly bad—and compassionate is not one of them. More like, stupid, self-serving, horrible, demonic, pathetic—I freeze, my long list of words vanishing within the space of a second.

He's here.

I don't know how I can be so sure of this, but I am. It feels like the temperature in the hallway has dropped at least twenty degrees. The pit of dread that has been growing in my stomach for the past few hours has exploded, leaving me completely immobile. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead and I glance at my hands and I notice how badly my fingers are shaking—my entire body is trembling uncontrollably.

Am I really capable of _this _much selflessness?

I think about all the things I will be missing out on. Graduating, an acceptance letter to a prestigious college or two, a high-paying job, buying my own house. Kids. If I finish my trek down this corridor and go into the cafeteria, I will be signing my own death warrant.

I can see the inscription on my tombstone now...

_Here lies Bonnie Bennett, she was brave._

Of course, I'd probably be buried here—not anywhere near Grams—and only Elena would even... wait! Grams! I could finally see her again! If I believed in all of that religious stuff, I mean. And I think I do. It's not like I have too many other things to put faith in...

The idea that I wouldn't feel so alone anymore propels me forward.

And by the time I find myself standing in front of the cafeteria doors, I can open them without any hesitation.

"What took you so long?" The sound of his voice sends a chill down my spine.

I keep my composure, though, and manage to look him in the eyes. Everything about Alaric is so _wrong._ He looks so different, though nothing about his appearance has changed outwardly. It's all about his aura, that malicious glint in this eyes, the way he sits with his feet propped up so casually. None of it reminds me of my history teacher and it's absolutely terrifying.

I can't deny that I'm standing in front of a cold-blooded killer.

When I don't respond, he twirls the knife he's holding in his hand. "Do you want to do this the easy way... or the hard way?"

_As if I really have a choice._

I can feel the power burning in my fingertips. It's exhilarating.

Klaus' hand contorts in the most awkward position I have ever seen. He drops the knife and tries not to let his pain show—it doesn't work.

"The hard way... got it."

Another burst of magic. This time it's aimed at his shoulder.

I try not to flinch at the sound of his bones cracking. Normally, this would not bother me, but the fact that I'm essentially hurting Rick does not make me feel like I should be doing any of this. That, and the sound is so much louder than it should be—the first sign of a power overload.

I grit my teeth, steeling myself for Klaus' next move.

He pushes his shoulder back into place. "You'd... really kill your favorite history teacher?"

"It's what Alaric would want," I answer coldly, "and he'd want you to suffer first."

I'm a little surprised at how defiant I sound. I hadn't been sure I'd be able to speak, let alone challenge him, but in staying quiet it would give him some sort of twisted respect. And I can't allow that.

The monster raises his chin, that bone-chilling expression intensifying. "Look at you," he says, almost to himself. "Is that all you've got?"

"Let's find out." I wipe the small stream of blood that has begun to trickle down my face on my sleeve.

I ignore the obvious strain all of this magic is putting on my body. I ignore the feeble protests the sane part of my mind is making. I decide that it's about time I give into the madness and all the trauma it brings. I _embrace_ the agony, feed off of it as it rushes like poison in my veins. _Revel_ in it.

I hear the faint sound of Damon's voice just outside the door. "Let her do this!"

Shit!

I hadn't been expecting Stefan to put two and two together, at least not until after this was over. I didn't realize that Elena would figure everything out. And here they are—ready to ruin the carefully brainstormed plan Damon and I came up with.

Taking a deep breath, I think of Emily, of Lucy, of all of my other ancestors. I remember their pain, the burning torment I felt at the broken down house. I beg them to help me. The power I felt earlier is nothing—_absolutely nothing_—compared to this. Fire. That's all I know. I hear their screams echoing in my ears, though it sounds like I'm standing next to them, burning at the stake.

I'm vaguely aware of the lights flickering. The tables and chairs falling over as if they weigh nothing more than a feather. It's chaos as various flyers for the next football game swirl around the room. I can feel the air pressing down on my lungs, making it impossible to breathe. Klaus seems to be feeling the same, which makes me feel happy—or as happy as I can be when my bones are dissolving underneath my skin.

"Bonnie!"

It takes all of my strength to turn around and look at her through the electric storm. And then it takes the rest of my sanity to send a burst of magic at the doors, which then slam shut and lock.

A warm blanket is wrapped around my body. It feels nice at first, but it quickly turns into something restricting. I can't move my arms or legs. Cotton fills my mouth and I want to choke, only to realize that my lips are sewn shut. I want to convulse, cry, shout, anything that will make this go away... but I can't.

I can only lie here in silence.

The doors open... footsteps... tears.

"_Bonnie!"_ Elena cries, slapping my cheeks, hoping that I regain consciousness. _"Hey, Bonnie. Bonnie!"_

She presses her fingers to the side of my neck. "Stefan, I- I can't f- find a pulse Stefan!" she says hysterically. She's sniffling now, and her tears are rolling down her cheeks and hitting me in the face.

They feel like knives.

"Stefan," desperation is saturating her tone. "Do something! G- give her blood! Just _do_ something! Please Stefan!"

"It's too late, he says, voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"_No, no, no, no, n- no." _

A new voice enters the pandemonium. "Stefan, get Elena out of here. I'll deal with the body."

"What do you mean _'deal with it?'"_ I've never heard my best friend so pissed off before. I would have laughed if it didn't hurt so much to fight the paralysis.

"Sheriff Forbes can't know about—"

"_This is Bonnie!"_

"Get her home. _Now." _Damon says, and then in a quieter tone, "so I can clean this up." At first, I think he's talking to Stefan, but it becomes clear that he only means for me to hear—since he's the only one who knows what's going on.

Stefan wraps Elena in his arms and coaxes her from her spot on the floor. "Jeremy... oh God. Jeremy!"

The sound of his name makes me want to cry with relief... Jeremy is fine. Safe. That's all that matters...

Damon's conflicted eyes meet my dead ones. I'm taken aback by how tortured they look. I can see a thousand emotion swimming in his blue irises. And, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that he looks like he's close to tears.

The sorrow is gone in an instant.

It's replaced by a mask of indifference as his fingers caress the side of my face and over my eyelids.

And then comes the darkness.

I hate it. With every second that passes I start to believe that I really am dying, fading into nothing. The pain of being lifted from the floor is the only thing to remind me that I'm alive. It's like I'm a marionette and my only support is Damon, who has loss all of his will to be gentle. Because things like that are only good for something in the space of a moment... or maybe two, seeing as he was the first person to figure out my little trick.

I didn't even have to say anything.

All my Damon-centric thoughts stop when Jeremy approaches. He starts to say something, but whatever it is he's saying is cut off by a _bang!_

Total isolation.

**ѮѼѮ**

The numbness begins to wear off by the time I'm placed in another room.

A bright orange color dances in front of my eyes. My first instinct is to recoil... it reminds me of the feeling of being burned alive, and I would do anything to avoid experiencing that again. Although, once I figure out that this fire is only warmth, I want nothing more than to get closer to it.

Someone places their hand on the side of my face.

_Damon._

I open my eyes, expecting to find the King of the Assholes hovering over me. In fact, I had been so prepared to see him that I'm almost too shocked to be happy about who's _really_ standing there.

Jeremy.

He's by the candle holder, lighting the last of many candles. When he hears me stir, he turns around, rushing over to me. And then I am in his arms, sputtering and crying like a child. Part of me wants to blame it on finally being released from that spell, but I know that seeing him unharmed is more overwhelming than my brush with death. I actually feel safe now—as long as we're both okay, nothing else matters.

It seems like we stayed like that for hours when he pulls away from me.

I'm about to protest, but he holds up a finger, telling me to wait.

Jeremy pulls his laptop out of its bag and sets it on the floor. "Are you sure it's safe here?"

"I'm sure," I say, giving him a small smile. "What's that?" I nod at his cell phone.

"It is Mi-Fi. I figure if we're going to be stuck here, we might as well have internet."

I'm struck by his words—he _wants_ to be here with me. In a basement without any real electricity or plumbing... he's willing to sacrifice his freedom just to make sure I'm not alone.

"You don't have to stay with me."

I'm almost afraid of his response, afraid he will look at me and then choose to walk right out the door.

"Hey, I'm not letting you out of my sight." he glances at his hands, it's like his embarrassed of wanting to protect me... or maybe his just worried I'll yell at him, rant about how strong I am.

I'd be more than happy to let him be here, but I need him to do me one more favor.

"I need you to talk to Elena for me, tell her how sorry I am for what Damon and I had to do."

Jeremy transfers his gaze to the computer screen. "Well... uh... why don't you tell her yourself."

"Bonnie!"

Once he's sure that the program is working properly, he gives me the laptop so I can talk to my best friend.

"Elena!" I exclaim, suddenly overcome by a hurricane of emotions . "Elena, Elena, I'm _so sorry!"_

"It's okay," she assures me, though it never will be. "I just needed to see your face."

I nod, unsure of what else I could say. I don't have the heart to tell her that things won't be "okay" for long, that I'll still be as good as dead when the ritual comes around.

Why ruin the moment?

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><p><em>Sorry this is a day late, I wasn't feeling well last night so I couldn't post it. Remember... I love reading you're reviews.<em>


	2. Identity

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Vampire Diaries or the quote that accompanies this chapter.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm glad everyone liked it. Keep your eyes open for a metaphor, oh, and sorry for the D/E angst in this chapter, I didn't want to deviate into Bamon just yet. I want it to feel real, not rushed. I thought it would be better if I wrote this one in third person. That way, it is easier to distinguish between Bonnie's POV and Damon's, and I won't have to mark each change. I hoped I stuck to Damon's personality, and I think this quote fits him in a way.**

**Oh, and most of my updates won't come so quickly, I just wanted to update while I had the time. :)**

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><p><em>This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. I - I hardly know, sir, just at present - at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then. <em>

_~Lewis Carroll~_

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><p>He did it for Elena.<p>

He kept this thought firmly in his head as he poured himself a small glass of wine. It was always about Elena, she was the only person he cared about. And it was so easy to feel that way. Almost natural.

Except when it wasn't.

She didn't love him back, he could see that much. He was well aware of the affection she had for him, but she wasn't deeply in love with him. Those emotions were strictly reserved for Saint Stefan. Sure, the endearment she had for him was _nice_, it just wasn't what he wanted. Damon Salvatore rarely got what he asked for. Not that he was hindered by his bad luck. He was determined to get Elena to see the good in him. He did save Judgey, after all.

He wasn't certain as to exactly when the notion occurred to him, maybe it was a gradual realization, or maybe it was just his superior intelligence. Either way, it had been a brilliant plan. Why not show Elena what a good person he could be? That would surely be an eye-opener for her. Not only would he be cooler, sexier, smarter, and kinder to woodland animals, he'd be morally inclined too. He considered his lack of a broody forehead to be a bonus.

He began to suppress his emotions. The urge to add sarcasm to every situation, whether it bothered those involved, or not. The urge to kill, he ate from Stefan's supply of blood bags now. He cut out other feelings, too, but he couldn't identify them. He simply knew that some less-obvious parts of him were missing. He didn't care about them too much. Why else would he not know what they were?

He told Stefan that he'd be the one to keep her alive.

He told Elena that he didn't give a damn about the Bennett witch.

He found out that Elena's slaps felt nothing like Judgey's aneurisms. She could have hit him with a boulder and he wouldn't have felt a thing.

Bonnie on the other hand. . .

She could probably kick his ass if she ever needed to.

Okay, there was no "probably" about it. She had already kicked his ass on numerous occasions.

He downed another glass of wine. His brain was starting to feel a little fuzzy. So much had happened in the last couple of hours. He didn't know what to make of it all. But he did realize that Bonnie had kicked the crap out of Klaus. From all that power she used, he must be a little shaken up. The cafeteria looked like hell when she was done with it. She looked like hell, too. That spell really did work, she honestly appeared to be dead. For a short minute, even _he_ believed it. She looked like a shattered glass doll, and her eyes were almost empty. Almost. He knew that she could comprehend everything going on around her, even in her ruined state. And, somehow, those green irises were like lasers. Piercing into him, looking straight into his soul. It was if she could tell that he was upset, not over her, of course. But for Elena's hysteric reaction. It was downright creepy. So, like any sane person would, he shut her eyes.

It was better when he didn't have to look at her.

Explaining the incident to Jeremy was even more annoying.

He nearly lost what little sanity he had. Apparently, opening the explanation with, "Sorry man, your girlfriend's a corpse" wasn't one of his brightest ideas. But to be fair, he had warned the little bastard that they needed to talk.

Thank God that Bennett had understood what he was saying. He didn't want to get his ass set on fire again.

He went back to picturing Elena's sorrow-filled eyes. She looked so young, so vulnerable. He hated being the one that had to assume the role of "the bad guy", but somebody had to do it, and Stefan was a pansy, not capable of squashing Elena's feelings. Which were _so important_. Quite frankly, he didn't get it. If she was safe—even if her opinions were ignored in the process—what did it matter?

Saint Stefan made him look like a Nazi.

It very nearly made him sorry, though. Looking at her expression and realizing that she hadn't just thought that she lost her best friend, but her sister. He had an apology ready on his tongue, but he couldn't say it. It went against the routine they established.

Damon says—or does—something shitty, Elena stonewalls him, he prostrates—and castrates—himself in front of her, all is forgiven.

It's serendipity.

And besides, it's not as if anyone from the Scooby Gang is jumping at the chance to forgive him.

Only Elena.

In the end, everything he did would always be about Elena.

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><p><strong>Sorry this one is shorter, the next update will be longer, I promise! It will have more of a plot direction by the next chapter.<strong>


	3. A Note

_Hey my most awesome wonderful readers!_

_I don't know what else to say except sorry for not updating in forever... and that this isn't a real chapter, but don't worry. I've decided to re-work this story a little bit... I plan on having the first revised chapter up either today or tomorrow, so look for that._

_Again, thanks for your patience and I hope you guys like the way it turns out!_


	4. Update Status

_CHAPTER 1 UPDATED._


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